


and you say that dreamers always get what they desire

by carentans



Series: i and love and you [1]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And He Wants One, Everyone is a Great Dad!, Finally Wrote a Dad AU!, George Just Loves Babies, His Struggle to Get a Baby, I promise, It's All Happy Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-24 18:30:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20019079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carentans/pseuds/carentans
Summary: Four times George hints at expanding their family, and one time Joe got what he meant.





	and you say that dreamers always get what they desire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [currahees](https://archiveofourown.org/users/currahees/gifts).



> thanks to lily (currahees), my love, for always crying about luztoye with me  
> additional thanks to ollie (mmnesdt7) for always being there to talk about fics and to pick out the randlemartin kid's name! :)
> 
> really it's just soft fluff featuring various babies bc i was feeling it and this took forever to write so :) please enjoy

**one.**

George didn’t think it was possible to fall more in love with Joe Toye. 

He’d done his fair share of waiting, of wishing and watching from a distance as all of their friends seemingly went about their best lives, falling in love and getting married and settling down somewhere nice. It had been easy enough the first time; really, all it took was one meeting, a quiet conversation with Joe away from the action of their friends, and George taken. 

It took a little over three years before they’d managed to sort out _whatever_ it was they’d created through their friendship. For George (and for Joe, as well, he would learn), it had been a steady descent deeper and deeper in love. 

Their friends paired up along the way. 

They were sent wedding invitations and got drunk among friends and spent a little longer each time swaying on the dancefloor. George wasn’t pushy, though. He knew this would be their future, but he was in no hurry to get there. 

He was confident in his feelings, in knowing each time they toasted the newly wedded grooms, it was an expectation of what was to come. 

Another three years until Joe surprised him, rambling on about happiness and their futures. George wasn’t afraid to admit he cried, or that when he replied with a breathless _I love you_ , it had been genuine, packed with more feeling than previously possible. 

They’d gotten married later that year. In all the planning and expectation and exhaustion, George relied on Joe. He knew he’d be there for him, since that’s just what their sort of love was. They balanced each other out, similar in ways no one quite expected, and stronger because of their differences.

When they exchanged handwritten vows, Joe had teased him, and then pointed out all of the things he never knew he could live without (of which, were things _George_ did). No one could blame him for starting his own vows with a kiss, formal invitation be damned. 

He’d always been quite physical in showing his love. With his heart so full, he could barely think of a better way to show that Joe never failed to surprise him in the best ways. 

Then, a little over a year later, they were chosen as godfathers. Ron and Lip asked them as they waited at the hospital, between anxious pacing and never ending labor pains. George knew Joe was nervous about the responsibility, but since he had George beside him, he didn’t hesitate. 

Joe was the last, after the doctor and nurses and two happy fathers, to hold the baby. George eased her into his arms, and regardless how small and safe she was swaddled in the hospital blanket with her puffy cheeks and long lashes, Joe looked positively terrified. 

(And probably with good reason since Ron had fallen in love the _moment_ the atmosphere in the delivery room was drowned out by their baby’s wailing entrance, and he held her for a good half hour before allowing Lip to take her.)

George wish he’d known. There was a split-section realization as Joe’s hands opened and George passed the baby that he was an absolute goner. 

Watching Joe with the baby, first awkwardly holding until he relaxed, filled George’s heart in a way he hadn’t expected. Maybe he made a little noise, like his brain couldn’t quite process the emotions either, but it was clear that he’d absolutely fallen deeper and more thoroughly in love with Joe. 

“I want one,” George managed, the thought slipping from his mind and spoken aloud.

Fortunately, the room was noisy enough with the excitement of the newest arrival that no one truly caught onto what he said. 

Jesus, he was _fucked_. 

##

**two.**

“You sure you two are okay with this?” Lip checked again. He spared a skeptical glance between the two of them.

A step behind him was Ron, and he held Ivy, though she seemed thoroughly unbothered by the way she’d fallen asleep in their travels from the car to George and Joe’s apartment.

“Yes, Lip,” George nodded and reached out for the baby. “Now, pass her over,” he punctuated with grabby hands.

Ron was reluctant, but it wasn’t for the same reasons as Lip. George and Joe both agreed that looking after their goddaughter was never a burden, so he didn’t feel like they were imposing.

Instead, his hesitation came from letting go of Ivy.

In their few months of being dads, George had never seen some slide so seamlessly into becoming a father like Ron had. Ivy had him twisted around her little baby finger, and if he had to guess, George assumed she was never actually put down when either Ron or Lip was awake.

Ron trusted George and Joe, which was certainly saying something. It didn’t stop his reluctance to part with his daughter, though.

“We didn’t have plans,” Joe promised. “So, watching her will probably improve our night.”

George made an indignant noise before continuing exaggeratedly. “Oh, am I not good enough?”

“Compared to Ivy? I’m not sure you’ll like the answer.”

Joe’s dry response seemed to convince Ron to release his grasp, but he still didn’t look entirely thrilled to place his daughter in George’s enthusiastic arms.

He was gentle in the way he rocked her, trying to settle without her waking from her impromptu nap. If she started fussing, there was no way Ron would leave.

“There’s three changes of clothes, and probably enough formula for a week-“

“Lip, really. We got it. This isn’t our first babysitting gig.” George interrupted. 

(God knows how terribly clingy and emotional they’d been the first time they had to leave Ivy. George and Joe only had the opportunity a few times since then, but George had to admit he was excited for it.)

“We’ll try to be back as soon as possible,” Ron said, reaching out to touch Ivy’s little hand. “She should go down in about an hour and has gotten pretty good about sleeping through the night. We’ll definitely be back before midnight.”

George nodded. Truthfully, it didn’t much matter to him. He’d stay up all night with Ivy if she called for it.

“We gotta go,” Lip pointed out, but neither seemed too excited for their planned evening. Their button downs and suit jackets had magically avoided any sort of mess, of which usually card with a baby. “Bye-bye, Ivy,” he said quieter, holding his hand out for Ron to take, since he’d already given her a little kiss before she was passed to George.

“Be good,” Ron accompanied, and frowned to George’s _You know I always am._ “We’ll see you soon, Ive.” His gaze lingered for a moment longer on Ivy before he allowed himself to be directed from the apartment by Lip.

The moment the door shut behind them, George let out an exasperated sigh. “Geez, you think they’ll ever trust us?”

“Me? Possibly. You?” Joe raised a brow.

“It’s the anniversary of us getting together, but you’re here _bullying_ me,” he whined, carrying Ivy towards the couch. “Remind me again who raised a houseful of kids and who had never held a baby?”

Joe dropped heavily on the couch beside him. “I’d held a baby before,” he grumbled, but draped an arm across George’s shoulders when he leaned into him.

“Sure seemed scared,” George teased, tilting his chin up to look at him.

“I think I was allowed to be... wary of holding a brand new baby. Speirs would have had no problem with murder if I’d dropped her,” he replied, but it was quieter now.

George leaned just the slightest to press a kiss to his lips. “You did perfect,” he promised.

Joe squeezed his shoulder.

“Here - hold her a second? Let me go change into sweatpants since I know I’ll have to get in the ground with her,” George said.

Placing Ivy in his arms was far easier now than it had been that fateful first time. Joe knew to support her head, and regardless how much bigger she’d gotten, he could juggle her easily in one arm.

George rushed off to their room before he absolutely lost his mind watching the two of them. A quick change and firm conversation in the bathroom mirror (telling himself to get a grip), and then he returned to the living room.

Joe’d gotten more comfortable in his absence, likely adjusting to Ivy blinking awake and trying to figure out her surroundings. She had both hands fisted in his shirt, half balancing on his thigh and leaning up against him.

Any sort of rational thought George might have had was gone.

He all but threw himself on the couch beside them, grinning at the way Ivy’s mouth opened in surprise before she smiled back, cheeks full.

“You know,” he began, and he could practically feel Joe about to playfully dismiss what ridiculous idea he spoke into existence. “We could really practice a lot more. You could practice holding a baby, and we might convince them we’re trustworthy of watching Ivy. All we have to do is get one of our own.”

George’s cheeks flushed, and he busied himself focusing on the way Ivy shook her fists and tugged on Joe’s shirt instead of thinking about how he just suggested they become parents.

Joe let out a little laugh. “Okay, George,” he said, far from a serious tone. “Seems a little excessive. Maybe we can just prove our worth by getting her fed and to sleep without a meltdown.”

He returned the laugh, but it was slower, quieter. “All right,” he agreed, and hoped to God his heart stopped beating so fast or he really would lose it.

##

**three.**

The spread of their living room probably paled in comparison to the old farmhouse Bull and Johnny shared.

They’d packed themselves up after college and moved back to Bull’s hometown, quietly going about the much needed renovations to their home and dozen acre farm. Tucked away in Arkansas, they had plenty of time to sort out their lives.

And when they announced they were expanding the family (past the handful of dogs, chickens, and cows they already had), no one was too surprised.

George, being the generous guy he was, offered to babysit for an afternoon on Bull and Johnny’s yearly trip up North to visit as many of the boys as possible. Sure, they’d come to show off the new babe, but was quickly convinced they deserved a bit of a vacation as well.

Since George and Joe had a lot going for them, like Ron’s endorsement of child safety and happiness, the afternoon was planned.

“He’s a bit of an explorer right now,” Bull explained apologetically, and in two solid motions he righted the knocked over picture frame and scooped his son into his arms.

Charlie was a shy three year old, less concerned with rebelling and clinging to easy shouted words (like “No!”) but was fascinated by his surroundings.

“Don’t worry about it,” George promised. They had agreed to keep Charlie at the apartment, knowing very well what a toddler might bring to the environment, but it was nothing they couldn’t tidy with a bit of work. “Let him wander. Plenty for him to get into.”

Charlie peeked over at him, big blue eyes wide and intrigued at the opportunity.

He hadn’t quite warmed up to George - probably still tired from the trip, Joe had assured him the previous night when he worried over Charlie’s opinion of him.

George had yet to meet a baby that didn’t like him, and he wasn’t about to have a three year old upset his record.

When Bull released his son, Charlie beginning to toddle away the moment his feet were on the ground. There was a smattering of his toys recklessly abandoned in the area between Bull on the couch and George on the floor, and Charlie paused at one, an overstuffed cow with an ear gnawed off before snatching it into his grip. 

“What do you say we do a little exploring, bud?” George enticed. “Who knows? We might discover some secrets.”

Charlie hesitated, sparing a look back at Bull for guidance.

“If you stick close, I know you won’t get lost.” Bull said, nodding. “Listen to George - he knows these grounds better than you.”

“Nice pumpkin spice soap you’ve got in there,” Johnny interrupted.

Charlie spun around so fast he almost toppled to the ground and visibly lightened at his dad’s reappearance.

“It’s festive, thank you very much!”

“Luz, it’s barely September.”

Bull jumped in with, “Never too early to celebrate, you know that.” He stood from the couch, picking Charlie off the floor another time and pressing a noisy kiss to his cheek. “You listen to George and Joe, and you’ll have a grand ol’ time.” He explained to Charlie and walked towards Johnny.

“Maybe if you ask nicely, they’ll even play hide-and-seek with you,” Johnny said, kissing is other cheek. “Me and Da will be back before dinner.”

Charlie didn’t seem like an outwardly anxious kid. He had his few moments like most small kids, where his lip quivered at being left behind or clinging to the arms around him.

He had his doubts about being left there, that much was obvious, but he also had incredible faith in his parents to always keep him safe.

“Hey, Charlie, I’ve been hoping to find the perfect companion to search for treasure with,” he stage whispered, standing from the floor. “And, if you’re up for it, I’d love your help.”

Bull shot him an appreciative smile over Charlie’s hair and returned him to the ground once he started to squirm.

“Geez, I sure am jealous,” Johnny replied. “George has told us about how many times he’s searched and searched, but still hasn’t found anything yet. But I know with you, you’ll find it in no time.”

Charlie offered his own little smile, pleased to think he might know more than the adults around him.

“Okay, bye-bye.” Charlie said, giving a little wave.

Bull huffed out a laugh at Charlie’s lack of enthusiasm, obviously too caught up in the appeal for adventure. “Love you, too, Charlie. We’ll see you soon.”

Johnny called out his own goodbye after Bull, and they left the apartment with little reaction from Charlie.

“Phew, they’re gone,” George sighed dramatically. “Now for the serious business - let’s find us some treasure.”

Within the hour, George had crafted a rolling tale of a mysterious treasure tucked away on the mysterious island just past the living room. When he explained that they have to be sneaky, maybe even pretending to be pirates to make it to the island, Charlie had giggled himself breathless and replied with a noisy “Aye-Aye!” They crouched on the couch together, now christened as their ship, the Bouncy So-Fa (able to tolerate even the bounciest of waves, accompanied with George encouraging Charlie to jump on the cushions), and George went over their plan for adventure and off they went.

They crept down the hallway towards the spare bedroom they used as an office. It was barely organized, just more of a desk and countless things sent there for having no where else to go. Something in there would surely excite Charlie, and that would be good enough for their treasure.

Charlie was more active than he’d seen him, jumping around, squealing about the dangers of the land and rolling on the floor, convincing George to follow as he took control of the imaginary narrative.

“Look! A secret cave!” Charlie pointed to the office’s ajar door.

They crept forward to investigate any lurking danger, and Charlie turned, sharply shushing him for making too much noise, even if it were Charlie’s footsteps sounding like a herd of elephants on the hardwood.

“A gold coin!”

Charlie brandished a paperclip above his head once they’d safely entered.

“We’re getting close!”

George poked at a pillow and blanket folded in the office chair. “A bed! Charlie, do you think someone lives in this cave?”

Gulping, Charlie shook his head. “Let’s go quick!”

While they sorted through the boxes nearby, both of them sat up to the sound of growing footsteps.

“Uh oh!” Charlie exclaimed, far too loud to be sneaky. “Hide!” He crawled back beneath the desk while George knew he’d never find a spot, so he grabbed the blanket and poorly draped it over himself.

The door clattered open, followed by two loud footsteps. “Is there... someone in my cave?” The voice called.

“A giant!” Charlie whispered excitedly.

“Someone looking for my treasure?” A pause. “Ah-hah!” George allowed himself to be pulled up, letting out a loud gasp for effect.

He shared a quiet smile with Joe, from where he was wrapped comfortably in his arms.

“Weren’t you taught that stealing is mean and wrong?” Joe questioned.

“I was just looking! I promise!” George pleaded.

“That isn’t very nice! This is my home!”

“Let him go!” Charlie interrupted, jumping from his hiding place brandishing a ruler like a magnificent sword.

“A scary warrior!” Joe feigned surprise, releasing George. “Oh, no, I’m too scared to even look!” He covered his eyes but peeked through his fingers at him to see if his sword had lowered.

“That was a close one!” Charlie told George. “Now, are you a scary giant or a nice giant?” He interrogated, waving the ruler a little.

“I’m a nice giant!” Joe promised, letting out a loud “phew” when Charlie lowered his sword. “And since you were so nice to me, I call you my friend. And because you’re my friend, I will share my treasure with you!”

Charlie gasped and stood on his tiptoes to try and see what treasure Joe had hidden away on the shelf behind him.

Joe turned towards them again and revealed the chocolate bar in his hands.

“Candy!” Charlie exclaimed with a giggle. “George, look! The treasure was candy!”

“That’s way better than gold!” George agreed enthusiastically. He picked Charlie up to take the chocolate bar and thanked him profusely for helping him find the treasure. “Now, what do you say we go relax and enjoy a little of our prize?”

The three of them returned to the living room, fading back to real life as Charlie blinked slowly where he sat between them on the couch. They each had their piece of chocolate, Charlie managing to get most of his on his cheeks instead.

“You’re a good giant,” Charlie confessed sleepily as he leaned into Joe. “Scary. But friendly.”

Joe rested a hand on him, gently rubbing his back. “I’d never been a giant before, so it was a little scary for me too.”

Charlie giggly breathlessly, quickly losing the battle to keep his eyes open. “That’s silly,” he whispered, trailing off into smoother, deeper breaths.

George felt a bit like him, too, quickly losing the battle against his own heart as we watched Charlie’s sticky fingers clutch into Joe’s shirt and Joe watching on.

“Thanks,” he whispered finally, once he felt his voice was steady enough. “You did a good job.”

“Happy to do it,” Joe said.

“Wouldn’t it be fun to do this sort of thing all the time?” He asked before he could get his mouth to stop moving.

“Seems like a lot of work,” Joe replied, but he didn’t quite say no, either.

Regardless, George’s cheeks stayed red the rest of the evening, and he did everything he could to not think about Joe chasing after a little one who looked just like him, or his heart might stop.

##

**four.**

In order to properly celebrate the newest arrival to the group, they’d all decided on meeting at their favorite bar and drinking the hours away.

The guests of honor, dads-to-be Gene and Babe, were toasted to constantly, and like everyone else, seemed to get spectacularly smashed rather early in the evening. Their excitement was contagious, telling tales of their adopted little girl, Camille, of how copper her hair was, and how she nearly knew how to walk already. 

(“Millie learned a new word today,” Babe had interrupted, for what seemed like the fortieth time, drink lifted high. “A whole bunch of French ones. And I don’t know a single one. I’m officially the dumbest in the family!” 

The rest of the boys cheered, downing their drinks in celebration of Camille’s genius (as well as Babe’s foolishness.)

The night continued as such, Babe and Gene periodically interrupting, and the bar lit up in gleeful celebration each again and again.)

Sometime after midnight, Joe was able to coax him from the table. He’d been patient enough in his promises George would be drinking no one under the table that night, but George had persisted.

And like with most things Joe said, he was right.

They didn’t live too far from the bar, and Joe had learned to handle the sloppiest Drunk George early on in their relationship. He was still able to put one foot in front of the other, but the arm around Joe’s waist kept him steady and straight.

Joe was a little drunk as well, but he’d always seemed to pull it off better than George. He could guide them both home safely without too much concern.

“Joe,” George said finally, after concluding his rambling dialogue that filled the trip home. He leaned heavily against the wall as Joe fumbled with the key.

“What?” He answered, batting away George’s wandering hands after he’d repeated his name.

George lazily smiled, hand tailing down his arm until he could grab his hand, fingers slotting together. Joe always proved a rather effective distraction in any case. (Sober George was always susceptible as well.)

“George?”

He hummed in reply. “Oh,” he began, focusing back on his previous thoughts.

Joe had chosen that moment to push open the door and pull him inside, so George stumbled in a few steps until he refound his balance pressed at his side.

“We should get one.” George mumbled into his shirt.

“Huh?” Joe asked, too drunk and tired to even attempt decoding George’s thought process.

“We,” he said slowly, waving his free hand in the air, “should get one, too.”

“One what?”

“Not what! Who!” He shook his head. “A baby.”

If Joe was surprised by his outburst, George missed the reaction.

He’d had far too much vodka to worry over his thoughts, since he’d spent most of the night taking a shot each time he imagined _them_ bringing home a baby. As happy as he was for Gene and Babe, he found greater joy in this new scenario he had been plagued with since Ivy’s birth.

“Why don’t we get ready for bed?” Joe suggested instead, leading him down the hallway towards their room.

George followed, but the moment Joe set him on the edge of the bed, he flopped on his back, arms spread.

“Do you have to do this every time?” Joe questioned.

In the lowlight of their bedroom, the orange glow from the streetlights outside peeking through the curtains, George could make out Joe stripping off his clothes and kicking his shoes off by the door.

“Move,” he instructed, waiting until George had shuffled further up the bed, so he could sit on the edge to take off his prosthetic.

“But imagine it,” George began again. “A little baby. Just for us.”

George had his arms thrown over his face, like maybe that would stop the room from spinning.

(And it was possible the spinning was just his subconscious telling him to cease and desist with this conversation topic immediately.)

“I know you’re not planning on sleeping in your clothes,” Joe said, reaching around to loosen George’s shoelaces. “So it’s going to be up to me to solve this problem?”

“Just... leave it.”

“Last time you fell asleep in jeans, you were mad for days. Said it was my fault.”

“That’s symptom number one of being a bad husband,” George slurred, following with a giggle. “But you know what you wouldn’t be bad at?”

Joe had already gotten to work undressing him as quickly as possible, once again being the most wonderful person on the planet. “Hips up,” he interrupted, so he could tug his jeans off.

“Being a dad.”

George was a little too drunk to notice the way Joe hesitated in his motions. “Come on,” Joe focused, tugging in his hand to sit him up.

“You’re so gentle and patient and loving. Always taking the time to make sure everyone else is doing okay. Always making sure I’m okay,” he said, letting out another soft giggle as Joe pulled the shirt over his head, ruffling his hair in the process.

Joe dropped his shirt over the edge of the bed before laying down beside him.

Immediately, George cuddled at his side while Joe fought the blankets to cover them. “Really. All the little kids love you. Ivy can’t get enough, and she’s definitely picky.”

“George -“

“I don’t think anyone’s really ready to have a baby. But... I think we could manage. We have a spare bedroom. Steady jobs. Good friends.”

“Georgie -“

“You and me. We could adopt. Or make one. I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. Just a baby that’s ours. What do you say?”

“I say...” Joe began before falling quiet. If George had been more sober, he would have panicked in this silence, backtracked through all of his comments and apologized for even bringing it up. The anticipation of Joe’s answer would have made him nervous, fearful to hear an answer they might disagree upon. “I’ll think about it. Now, try to get some sleep.”

George hummed, pleasantly drunk and unconcerned with his blatant requests for a baby. “I love you,” he whispered but was too tired to hear Joe’s response.

Between the alcohol and the burning thoughts of a new baby possible on the horizon, sleep came easy, welcome dreams of sharing a life with Joe and watching their kid laugh and grow.

##

**five.**

George woke with a start.

He took a second to collect himself, to stare around their room and remind himself he was exactly where he was supposed to be. Everything was normal. It was a calm, sleepy night, and that had just been an unfortunate nightmare.

His shake awake was met with indifference, and he realized there was no arm around him or body beside to cuddle into. The covers had been tucked back in, likely to spare George from twisting his way out of them and suffering in the cold.

That being said, George wasn’t unfamiliar to waking up to an empty bed.

Joe was much more of a morning person, actually able to get out of bed the moment he woke up. Between the light from the street below and the sun beating down their windows, morning always came early.

It was something Joe couldn’t shake, and no amount of whining could convince him to stay if he’d already decided on getting up.

George was no stranger to nightmares, either, but he’d never had quite this many before.

Usually they interrupted his sleep as a reminder of anxiety or impeding stress. His college days had been plagued with many drunken nights turning into frightened and hungover early mornings. He would dread assignments or exams before remembering it was early in the weekend, and nothing more was required of him but to sleep off the alcohol.

Those mostly faded away after he graduated, having little of the same stressors once he started working. Here and there he would jolt awake, connecting a fall off a cliff with worrying about paying rent on time or running late to work.

Towards the beginning of his relationship with Joe, he had his sleepless nights, interrupting sleep with his worrying over timelines and feelings and meeting parents.

These nightmares came back while they planned for the wedding, but they were less about fear of commitment and more about something going absolutely and irrevocably wrong.

Life continued on, the nightmares irregular and far apart until their next biggest life change.

He’d never been so consumed with worry at all hours of the day, all the time.

The room was quiet, the heater rustling through the vents above, but the apartment was settled, undisturbed.

George let out a breath, relaxing into the peace before realizing the quiet was no longer a part of their normal.

He rolled out of bed, dragging the top blanket along with him before leaving their room. The spare bedroom was only a few steps further, the door slightly ajar.

He hated breaking the silence by pushing open the door, but it didn’t seem to bother anyone too much.

Joe looked over at him, more alert than his tired expression let on and waved at him to be quiet.

A glance between Joe sat on the floor against the little bed and the even littler girl wrapped up in her favorite pink blanket in his arms, George didn’t need to bed told twice. Instead, he made his way further into the room, sinking to the ground beside Joe.

George couldn’t help but smile as he leaned up against Joe, getting a better look at their sleeping daughter’s face, gentle and relaxed.

“Rough night, huh?” George whispered.

Joe nodded slowly. “Said she couldn’t sleep,” he replied.

“Coulda woke me, you know.”

George knew it was a moot point, but he couldn’t help but be protective of their daughter. Obviously, Joe was more than equipped to handle this situation by himself, and adding George into the mix might have made it all worse.

He just hated the thought of her upset, even if just for a second.

“Know I shouldn’t have, but I didn’t want to upset her more.” Joe said, referring to allowing their kid to fall asleep in his arms instead of her new bed.

Eleanor had put on a brave face when they decided it was time for the big move from crib to bed. She directed her way around the bedding aisles at Target, standing in the basket of the cart and running her hands over all the blankets, pillows, and comforters she could. By bedtime, she was more hesitant, uncertain in the way she crawled beneath the covers and squirmed through the entire bedtime story.

It was unsurprising she’d gotten nervous enough to scare herself and convince Joe she needed him more than sleeping in her little bed.

“Might have to hold her every night until she goes off to college,” George teased.

The action had been innocent enough, and they weren’t much on the whole “letting the kid soothe themselves” way of parenting. Ellie had it hard enough before they brought her home, and she wasn’t too clingy, just a little quiet and more than deserving of a little comfort when big changes happened.

And George knew Joe would hold her every night in a heartbeat if she asked. He was absolutely taken with her, and rightfully so.

They’d been shuffled around adoption lists hopelessly for nearly two years until receiving a call late one night about a baby that had been abandoned at the hospital. She was nearly one, they had guessed, by the way she was walking and talking.

George and Joe didn’t hesitate. No matter how late at night it was or how lonely this kid was, she would happily be theirs the moment the paperwork was signed and done.

Their late night turned to morning as they dealt with red tape and checkups and research into who this baby might be. The hours seemed to drag and fly by at the same time, and really George couldn’t believe it was all happening.

Ellie had nodded off sometime after the doctors had cleared her, seeking refuge in Joe’s arms, and she just stuck.

George finding Joe uncomfortably on the floor of their daughter’s room, just so she could rest peacefully didn’t seem out of character for either of them.

“Georgie,” Joe interrupted softly, and he tilted his chin up to look at him. “‘Let’s get a baby, you and me.’” he paraphrased, reusing George’s words from the dozens of times he begged.

George grinned in response. “Yeah, alright. Hell of an idea,” he promised, looking back to their baby in question.

She was, by far, the best and most exciting change they’d brought about in their lives. No amount of babysitting could prepare them for the constant fear and exhilaration of having one of their own.

But it was all worth it. Every second.

“Hell of an idea,” he repeated in a whisper, more than content to stay here on the floor with Joe until morning, to know that their daughter was cared for and loved and comfortable.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. me? writing another m/m? don't expect it again lol
> 
> 2\. YES i realized i left out webgott and winnix and did two sections on speirton... it was originally just going to be a luztoye interacting with speirton's baby fic oops not sorry
> 
> 2.5. an EDIT: i forgot to name baberoe's kid i'm DEAD
> 
> 3\. Not representational of the real men. Solely based off the portrayals from the HBO series.
> 
> 4\. Kinda edited. Sometimes unrealistic.
> 
> 5\. Title credit to "Ask Yourself" by Foster the People.
> 
> 6\. Follow me on tumblr @ capnixons .


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